Black Dog Tired
Time for an update. This week I have been so depressed I have not been able to work. I am hardly able to walk, even. When I go out I walk slowly and painfully along the road like a much older woman. Could not do yoga.
Things I still do. Get up in the morning. Wash and dress. Take baths. Cook. Eat. Feed and pet cats. Water plants. Go out because if I stay in too long it becomes unbearable and I need to be around people even though I also experience pain in their presence. Look at email and look up stuff about personality disorders, social phobia and various sorts of therapy that might offer me a little chink of hope, however small.
I am nothing if not resourceful.
But emotionally I am one big mess.
I am going back into the Crisis Unit. It is only a few months since I was last there. But I had run out of resources and Things to Do to feel in any way safe.
Have been thinking about how much I have always hated my dad. How I could find nothing redeemable in him. That I perceive him as sub-human, in that respect. I basically prefer Hitler to my father. He was a vegetarian animal-lover remember! In the case of my dad there is no balance in my emotional response.
I guess I am still, emotionally, reacting as that vulnerable young child. No, actually, I don’t know. What I do know is, this hatred is corroding ME. It can’t harm my dad in any way as he is four years dead. I feel so very stuck. And that, if I could begin to forgive him or at least see his humanity, I might be freed from my own harsh self-judgment.
Have I got PTSD, BPD or Social Anxiety?
Been shopping around for therapeutic possibilities. And I am prepared to pay! Let’s face it, therapy after two years on another NHS waiting list is not a lot of bleeding use to me right now. I just know that I can’t do this alone. I need affirmation, and hope.
Good to talk to you, peeps. Love, Zoe.
Am I Still Ill? 